Alone In The Universe
by Krystin
Summary: Chandler deals with parenting his two sons. Oneshot.


_**Alone In Universe**_

_AN: Okay, this is a story I thought up a while ago. I just never got all my scattered thoughts and ideas together and actually wrote about it. It's just something that I felt I had to write about, once learning about Mondler's fertility problems. Mitchell is named for my cousin, though the character bears little resemblance to him, aside from his ability to be stubborn, in which case the resemblance is uncanny._

_Notes: Takes place 15 years from the end of season 9. Chandler and Monica are still married and have 'low fertility problems'._

x

Fourteen-year-old Mitchell Derrin-Bing slowly and cautiously crept up the stairs, nearing his bedroom. His sock-covered feet knew the journey well, from many late night sneaking out sessions. With the effortlessness of a trained pro, he manoeuvred closer to the soft comfort of his bed, without making a sound. Carefully, he avoided the creaking step and tiptoed across the upper hallway carpet, careful not make even the slightest sound, for fear that he might wake any one of the three people he currently believed to be asleep. He inched towards the save haven his bedroom provided. Four more steps and he'd be home free… Three… Two…

He was then startled, and jumped in fright when he heard a voice behind him, coming from the direction of his parent's bedroom. Funny, he hadn't noticed, neither of his parents were known for their stealthy movements.

"So you did decide to come home tonight, after all?" Chandler asked his son, quite casually, given the circumstances. To Mitch's surprise, he didn't even really sound angry. Just wary and tired. Perhaps he'd be able to get off the hook without making too much of a disturbance for tonight. He might even be able to get off without a punishment if he played his card right…

When Mitchell didn't respond to his question, Chandler sighed. He didn't know if he or Monica could take Mitchell's constant disrespect and misbehaviour much longer. Monica was well known for her ironclad rules and firm stance, and her approach to her children's discipline was no different. She loved them with all her heart, but there was a price to pay for misbehaviour in her household. And yet… she seemed just as unable to control their son, as Chandler.

"So you're not talking, now, huh?" Chandler asked, quietly. "I suppose that is somewhat better than screaming and yelling we usually have during these late night meetings," Chandler added sarcastically, causing his son to scowl.

Quite suddenly, he turned to face his son, a look of weary desolation on his face. He sighed, again, for what felt like the tenth time in the past five minutes that he'd been standing facing his son. "Mitch…" Chandler tried, again, stopping abruptly, not sure what to say to him.

Seeing and hearing Chandler look so powerless, stirred something in Mitchell's heart. Upset as he was with him, for no real reason in particular, he could help but feel a bit sorry that he'd made Chandler look so disappointed. Still, that didn't stop him from mumbling an inaudible, but clearly angry reply.

Chandler looked at the fourteen-year-old long and hard, before finally addressing the problem at hand, "Mitch, you can't keep doing this! It's not healthy for a kid your age to be awake at these hours! It's four o'clock in the morning, for Gods sake. You need to sleep! Your mother was nearly sick with worry! I finally got her to go to bed an hour ago, after trying to convince herfor three hours that you'd be okay. If you won't listen to me for your own sake, at least do it for your mother's sake. She loves you and it's killing her to be so worried about you, constantly, when she doesn't need to be!"

Mitchell glared at him, fuming. "I know, okay! I know that all you think of me as this damn problem that needs to be sorted out and dealt with. I'm not a person. Nope. I'm just another thing for you to look after, something you have to keep track of and be responsible for, just another mess that _Monica_ needs to clean up. Like I'm your stupid little pet dog or something." Mitchell rambled, taking his anger at being caught out on Chandler.

"You are purposely misunderstanding and twisting my words, Mitch." Chandler interrupted, " You know that isn't how we see you. What I'm trying to say is that your mother and I are very concer-"

"Don't call her that, she's not my mother." Mitchell sneered angrily; knowing even before he said the words that they would make Chandler angry, and land him with a weightier punishment than that to which he was already condemned to. He didn't care, as long as the words hurt Chandler, as he already knew they would.

"She is your mother, Mitchell. And you are going to treat and respect her like one, do you understand! She doesn't deserve to have you treat her like crap. She has done more for you than anyone else in this world. Think about her feelings for once! Think about someone other than yourself, and maybe you'll get somewhere. That woman, in there," he pointed towards the bedroom that he shared with his wife, "loves you more than you will ever know. _I_ love you more than you will ever know. And because of that, we want to make sure you're safe. That means no more sneaking out late into the night. You're grounded for the next three weeks."

"You can't tell me what to do, you're not my father, either," Mitchell snapped. He knew, deep down that he was being bitter and callous, but he couldn't really stop the hateful words that continued to spill from his mouth. He was on a roll and wasn't about to let down his guard. If Monica and Chandler thought they could control him, they were wrong, dead wrong.

"Damn it, Mitch, we _are_ your parents. We may not biologically be your mother and father, but we love you as much as if you had been. We care for you just as any other parent cares for their child. The moment we adopted you, you became out child and we became your parents. For that we deserve your respect. We are legally-"

"I don't care! Okay! I just don't care at all. Don't tell me all that shit about how you are legally my parental guardians and you love me, blah, blah, blah! You don't love me at all. Not one bit! You don't have to sugarcoat the truth for me. I'm strong enough to handle it. I know it's your precious little Nicky that you really love. Your real child! Leave me the hell alone." Without bothering to listen to Chandler's reply, Mitch, turned on his heel, and stomped into his room, making sure to slam the door as loud as he could.

Chandler glanced at the other two bedroom doors knowing that the slamming door had most liken awakened both his wife and younger son.

Chandler sighed and bit his lip, placing his head in his hands, trying not to let Mitchell's words get to him. The fact that Chandler knew Mitchell had said certain things purposely to hurt him, didn't change the way the words stung. He knew that when his son was as frustrated, as he had been, he was liable to say or do anything. It didn't help much that he was a moody teenager. Chandler hoped that it was simply a phase, and that with time, Mitchell would understand how much he meant to both of his parents.

Instead of dwelling on the tense atmosphere that had enveloped the household, Chandler tried to focus on the good and remember how his oldest son had adored them when he was younger. He had looked up to his parents, with shining green eyes, so much unlike their own, yet they couldn't help but love him. He was even-tempered and adorable. He could be described as nothing less than a little angel. Everyone thought so. As he had grown older, and the ramifications of adoption had become clear to him, Mitch had pulled himself away from his parents. However, it was the birth of Monica and Chandler's biological child, Nicholas, 4 years ago, and the resulting divide of attention that had finally thrown Mitchell on to his path of destruction and recklessness. With a newborn in the house, Monica and Chandler had less time to devote to their oldest son, than before. Mitch had at first taken it in stride. Eventually, however, he came to see it as a sign of favouritism and proof that his parents preferred his younger sibling. These emotions mixed with the typical whirlwind emotions experienced by young, coming-of-age teenagers, threw Mitch into a funk from which he had yet to emerge.

Upon hearing a sob resonate from Nick's room, Chandler pushed aside his thoughts of the past and his anger at his son's thoughtlessness, and entered the bedroom occupied by his younger son. He was not surprised to find the four-year curled in a ball, tangled up with his speed-racer bed sheets, with his pillow pulled tightly over his head, sniffling into it.

Nicholas had been an unexpected child. Early in their marriage Chandler and Monica had discovered they had low chances of conceiving naturally, so they went through the process and adopted Mitchell, thinking they would never have children of their own. Yet, ten years later, they had managed to beat the odds, and long after adopting Mitch, Nick had been born. In many ways the age gap between the two had been a good thing. Nick adored his older brother, just as Mitch adored his baby brother. Monica and Chandler had hopped that the age gap would allow for that Mitch would understand his adoption more fully, as well as be more willing to accept a new family member, that Monica and Chandler would have to devote a large portion of their attention to.

"Nick?" Chandler asked the child, quietly, not wanting to scare him.

Nicholas pulled the pillow away from his face and slowly opened his eyes and squinted up at his father, tears still running down his small cheeks. "Daddy, why do you and Mommy always fight with Mitchie? It's scary, Daddy! You scream and yell and get really, really mad. Please don't do it anymore," he begged, the blue of his eyes magnified by glassy tears.

Chandler smiled tightly; unable to resist anything his son said when he looked at him like that. He pulled Nick close to hug him tightly, "I'm sorry, sweetheart, Mommy and I'll try to fight anymore okay?" Chandler assured the four-year-old, "We know how much you hate it. We hate it too. We don't want to fight with Mitch or anyone, anymore."

"You always say that, Daddy." Nick hiccupped, looking at his father, accusingly. In an attempt to comfort his son, Chandler pulled him into his lap, hugging him tightly. Nick snuggled up to his father, happy that someone was there to make it better. Often when his parents fought with his brother, Nick was left to hear them fight and deal with it on his own. Monica and Chandler tried to assure him, afterwards, that everything was okay, but Nick was still afraid for his Mom, Dad and big brother. From his childish point of view, he didn't understand why everyone got so upset; he only knew that fighting was bad and it made Mitch scream that he wanted to leave the family and runaway. Nick didn't want his brother, or his Mom or Dad, for that matter, to leave the family.

After a short while, Nick stopped hiccupping. Chandler sighed, knowing his son's earlier response was right: He _was_ going to fight with Mitchell again, no matter what he promised. It was inevitable that it happen eventually. "You're right, sweetie. I can't promise that we'll never fight, but I'm going to try my best to make sure it never happens, again, okay? But remember, if there ever is a fight, it doesn't mean that we don't love each other, or you. We just have some issues to sort out, Okay?"

"Promise?"

"I promise. Now, try to get some sleep, you've got kindergarten tomorrow." Chandler tucked the comforter gently around the small boy and kissed Nicholas's forehead, "'Night Nick, I love you."

Nick grinning, smiling his front-toothless smile at his father, comforted by his presence and his words. "Night Daddy."

Chandler turned to leave and saw Mitchell standing outside the door, peeking through the crack of the door with watery eyes.

As soon as Chandler took a step towards the door to exit Nick's bedroom, Mitchell vanished from his spot by the door. Chandler knew he had retreated to his room so he followed. He knocked on Mitchell's bedroom door cautiously.

"Go away, I don't feel like talking to you now," Mitchell said, knowing it was his father. His voice was tight with his effort to control his tears.

"Shh. Your brother's trying to sleep." Chandler said, ignoring his son's request, and entering the room anyway. He opened the door and stepped into the room, smiling slightly when he spotted a lump in the blankets of Mitch's bed. Though he was nearly fifteen, Mitch could at time act like a young boy. Hiding in his blankets to avoid real life was exactly the kind of thing he would do to avoid his parents, if need be.

Mitchell, was about to reply that Nick was not his brother from his hiding spot under the covers, but thought better of it and said nothing, he instead chose to ignore his father completely and hope he would go away. As much as he really, really wanted to hate Monica and Chandler's perfect little son, he loved his little brother too much to hate him. His parents were one thing. He could tell them hate them, scream and yell and cry at them. But his little brother was different somehow. As much as he tried (and he did try very hard) he couldn't bring himself to hate his little brother. It was physically impossible. Nick idol worshipped him. In Nick's eyes, Mitch was the perfect big brother, and everything that he wanted to be. Even Mitch couldn't help but think it was cute. He'd never dare tell his parent's that, though, he was sure that through some unspoken agreement, they already knew. So long as the word didn't get out to his friends, his reputation would remain in tact. He hoped.

Chandler walked over to the bed and sat down next to the bump in the blankets, "I just want to let you know that no matter what you think, your mother, your brother and I all love you very much, we understand why you would think that we could love Nick more than you, but we don't. You are just as much our son as he is. I realize that it's hard for you know what we do and don't feel sometimes, and I know very much what it feels like to think your parents hate you. When I was younger I may not have been in quite the same situation as you, but I felt the same things, and I know, sometimes, you feel sorry for yourself because it's easier than admitting you're wrong. Deep down, you know that we love you every bit as much as your brother. You'll see eventually. We may not like that you feel inferior, but we do understand. I love you. Goodnight, son."

Chandler kissed the lump in the blankets, knowing his son has heard every word he said. He sat in place silently, watching the rise and fall of the blankets and Mitchell's breathing, until he was sure the boy was asleep and got up quietly.

As his father got off the bed, Mitchell felt the weight of the bed shift and awoke with a start.

As he was leaving the room, Chandler was sure he heard the words, "I love you, too, Dad," whispered from under the covers. He didn't say anything in reply, content to let those five small words hang in the atmosphere. Somehow, they meant more that way than if Mitch had screamed them at the top of his lungs. With a small smile tugging as his mouth, Chandler left the room and closed the door quietly behind him.


End file.
